


This Matters

by heyronove



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dog BB-8, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyronove/pseuds/heyronove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux is good at many things. Turns out, talking to cute boys isn't one of them.</p><p>Fill for the prompt: <i>HighSchoolAU where senior!Hux wants to ask junior!artist!Ren to prom. He's had a crush on him for years but can't overcome his extreme shyness around the guy (he has barely ever talked to him, just keep on not so secretly pining). Plus Hux's father is an homophobic asshole. But with help from a badass best friend/matchmaker and a cute corgi named bb8, Hux's prom could end up the way he has always dreamed it would.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	This Matters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RikaWilde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikaWilde/gifts).



"You did _what_?"

Phasma laughs, so Hux knows he must look as betrayed as he feels. "Relax," she grins, throwing her backpack over one shoulder. "I didn't say anything incriminating, I just asked him to keep his ears open."

"That doesn't even make sense," Hux says with a sigh.

She laughs again, clapping a hand over his shoulder. He glares at her. "Think about it," she continues, "this way if he's already asked someone, if he's got his eyes on a girl, whatever -- we'll know." Hux frowns and opens his mouth to argue but she cuts him off with one raised hand. "You’ll still have to talk to him, you know. Even I won’t ask someone to the prom for you. But think of the embarrassment you'll save yourself with Finn's intel."

Hux rolls his eyes. "Intel. Yeah, okay."

"Don't act like you don't need my help," Phasma says with a wink. "You've chickened out two years in a row. We're seniors now so this is your last chance."

"I know,” he grumbles. “And thank you. Really. I just -- I don't know Finn the way you do, what if he--?"

"He won't. Trust me. Finn is a good guy. Plus, I'm pretty sure he spends more time with Ren and his cousin than anyone else at this school."

Hux stops shoving books into his own backpack and blinks up at her. "Ren's cousin. Do you seriously not know? They're together."

"I thought he was with Dameron?" she says, genuinely confused.

Now Hux laughs. "He's with both." He raises one eyebrow. "And you're supposedly gathering 'intel' for me? This doesn't inspire confidence."

"What, not knowing everything about everyone's personal lives?" She snorts indignantly. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. I'm only worried about yours right now.” She pushes the sleeves of her red letterman jacket up to her elbows, then crosses her arms. “Just trust me, please?"

"You know I do."

“Good.” She beams and reaches out to muss his gelled hair before heading off, leaving him scowling as he attempts to smooth it back down. "I'll text you!" she calls back over her shoulder.

 

Hux can't concentrate at all that afternoon. He types out and then deletes at least three separate texts to Phasma, reminding himself that she would text immediately if she had an update, that she would never leave him hanging. To her credit, Phasma has listened to him pine over Kylo Ren for nearly three years with only minimal ribbing. She has even gone out of her way (on several occasions) to orchestrate opportunities for them to interact: things like movie nights, and weekend trips to the beach. Hux always skips the latter, and there is no SPF high enough to convince him he’s making the wrong choice. Still, when he does attempt to join in and be social he finds that he fails rather spectacularly, every time.

Hux is good at many things. Eloquence in the face of those dark hazel eyes is not one of them.

He remembers quite vividly, to his dismay, the first and longest exchange he's ever had with Kylo Ren. It involved unintentional insults and his face flushing redder than his hair and, eventually, his own awkward retreat. He had never felt so flustered before in his life, which somehow only strengthened the attraction. He still doesn’t understand how it happened. Hux is proper, composed. He doesn’t speak often and so, when he does, he makes it count. Until Ren, with his shaggy black hair and his permanent pout, his long legs and stupid, oversized hoodies.

He tried to get over whatever this was, of course -- a crush? an obsession? -- both by burying himself in his schoolwork and humoring his father's ceaseless efforts to introduce him to friends' daughters. Only one of these distractions had proved effective.

But this is it. High school will be over soon. He and Phasma are heading to the opposite side of the country for university, and the odds of him ever seeing Ren again will drop to nil. And even as these thoughts flit through his mind Hux knows how ridiculous they are. He knows, statistically, that a high school infatuation doesn’t matter. After uni he'll go on to the Academy, enlist like his father before him, and he'll be obligated to marry and have children and keep the name and the legacy alive because that’s just his lot.

But then, maybe that's exactly why this matters, he muses, tapping the eraser-end of his pencil against his chin. Maybe that’s what Kylo Ren represents: a chance to break the cycle, if only temporarily. Even when Ren rejects him he’ll be able to say that he _tried_. That he went for something he truly wanted, something he scribbled into the margins of his father’s carefully laid-out life plan, all by himself. It’s more than a little melodramatic, but it bolsters his resolve all the same.

His phone chirps suddenly and he jumps, pencil falling from his hand and rolling off the edge of his desk. He touches the screen and Phasma's face slides into view, hair like sunshine, wide smile painted her signature scarlet red. The text bubble alongside her photo reads:

>Finn says all clear YOU BETTER ASK HIM!!!

Hux’s heart beats a little faster. He taps out a reply.

>I’m going to. Thanks for checking.

He hasn't even placed the phone on the desk before it chirps again.

>SENIOR YEAR ASSHOLE!!!!!! DO IT!!!

He shakes his head and returns to his homework.

 

"Turns out he's got a thing for animals."

"So?" Hux snorts. "Everyone likes animals, that doesn't mean anything. This is ridiculous."

Hux isn’t actually sure that’s true, but he didn’t sleep well and his nerves are returning and Phasma didn’t even give him a chance to open his locker before launching into her plan.

"It's not. Look." She turns her phone toward him. A blurry photo of a very happy, very round corgi fills the screen, eyes wide and tongue flopping sideways out of its mouth. The dog is wearing a loose orange and white sweater. Hux swears it looks handmade.

"Does Poe Dameron knit?" he asks.

Phasma rolls her eyes and pockets her phone, turning back to her own locker. "Focus, please. If you have BB-8 with you at practice today I guarantee Ren will come talk to you. He's obsessed. Finn says he and Poe have to take detours to avoid Ren when they're walking her before school."

Hux can't help but grin at this, relieved that Phasma is facing away from him when he does. The image that forms in his mind is uncharacteristically adorable. The mysterious Kylo Ren, hood pulled up to hide his unkempt hair, peeking around corners so he doesn't miss his chance to pet this cartoonish dog. He wonders if Ren's parents won't let him have a pet of his own. He wonders if he'd like Millicent.

"Okay," he says, trying to look disinterested. He shrugs one shoulder. "If you think it'll work."

Phasma zips up her backpack and slings it over her shoulder. The clang of her locker slamming shut causes a nearby classmate to jump. "It will," she says, chin raised. She studies him for a moment, then moves to ruffle his hair again. He swats her hand away with a yelp. "Maybe rinse some of that gel off your head first though, yeah? We're not at the Academy just yet." And with that she turns on her heel and disappears into the sea of students, carried away by the current before he can come up with a witty response. He curses and heads for the nearest restroom, hoping there won't be anyone around to witness him sticking his head under the faucet.

 

His last class of the day feels three hours long. He finds himself zoning out again, imagining the many ways his conversation with Ren might play out. Strategizing, he tells himself, suppressing a smug smirk. But when the bell finally rings and snaps him back to the present he notices small crescent-shaped marks on his palms. He curls and uncurls his fingers a few times to relax his hands, shaking out the tension before he gathers his things.

Phasma is waiting just outside the classroom, as promised. This time Hux isn’t quick enough to dodge when she goes for his hair with both hands, making a thorough mess of it. He sighs and tries to smooth it back down with his palms while she smiles victoriously. “No time!” she shouts, grabbing his arm.

Hux nearly stumbles as she leads him through the nearest doors and out onto the lawn. Her excitement is infectious, though it’s impossible to say whether it’s due to the matchmaking or just her desire to get on the field and tackle someone. Regardless, the combination of her mood and the cool spring air does wonders for Hux’s head.

He spots Finn first, sitting in the grass in the shade of the bleachers. BB-8 is running circles around him, launching herself forward to lick his face every few laps. Hux swears he hears Finn giggle when she does, as if this isn’t a daily routine of theirs. He stands and waves when they approach, smiling wide at Phasma, who slaps him on the back in greeting. “Hi Finn,” Hux says politely.

“Hux, hey -- thanks man, for offering to hang with BB-8.” He crouches back down fasten a leash to her collar, then hands the end of it to Hux. Finn is beaming, and Hux wonders once again just how much Phasma has actually told him. “Poe hates leaving her home after school, but he promised Rey he’d teach her to drive today and I can’t keep an eye on her from the field.”

“Happy to help,” Hux says, straightening a little. BB-8 looks up at him and barks her approval.

 

The dog is hesitant, but not unfriendly. She trots alongside Hux as they make their way around the far end of the bleachers. It’s a little too bright for Hux’s liking -- the cut grass smells a little too sweet and the laughter drifting down from the higher rows of benches is a little too loud. Hux always goes straight home after class. Homework takes up most of his afternoons, and he generally has to fend for himself in the kitchen. Once the sun goes down he returns to his room to read, or to make a dent in his ever-growing library of combat sims. Phasma joins him sometimes for co-op games, but overall he’s content with the quiet of his own space and Milli’s calming weight in his lap. Not that any of this stops him from imagining Ren in his room, invading his peace with that looming presence that low, excitable voice.

A particularly cold blast of wind brings him back to the field, coloring his cheeks and ears as he rounds the corner. Classmates are scattered across the bleachers. Most congregate toward the top, sprawled out to sun or leaning against the railing. Hux spots Thanisson and Mitaka nearest him, prepping the younger members of the color guard on the sidelines. Finn and Phasma are already on the other side of the field, Finn hopping around beneath the goal post while Phasma laughs. Hux wonders what it’s like to have such an endless supply of positive energy. BB-8 has it too, he realizes. The dog is darting back and forth at the end of her leash. Hux takes the hint and lets BB-8 lead him down the length of the bottom row. He settles onto the warm metal bench, dropping his bag onto the grass at his feet. BB-8 sees this as an invitation and immediately scrambles up onto the bag in order to clear the jump to Hux’s lap.

“Wow,” comes an unmistakable voice from behind, and Hux freezes. How did he not see him there? He was expecting to have at least a minute or two to collect himself. He twists around slowly, hands clamped onto BB-8’s sides to keep the dog from tumbling back to the ground. Kylo Ren’s brows are raised in mild surprise, disappearing under side-swept locks of wavy hair. He smiles cautiously. “BB-8 -- hey, buddy.”

BB-8 licks his outstretched hand. Hux watches the boy’s smile widen. He can’t think of anything to say. He’s honestly not even sure Ren has noticed he’s there. After a few seconds of chin scratching Ren lets his bag drop from his shoulder and vaults over the bench to sit beside him, legs crossed. “You dogsit?” he asks before switching to behind-the-ears scratching.

“Ah, no.” BB-8’s lean is beginning to look precarious, so Hux angles toward Ren. “I mean, yes -- I am right now. Until practice is over.” His hands are still on the dog’s sides, so he joins in and scratches through the thick fur over her ribs. “Phasma volunteered me,” he adds.

Ren looks at him without lifting his head, eyes shining up through dark lashes. Hux hopes the sun has already reddened his cheeks enough to hide the blushing. “I thought it was weird,” Ren says, “seeing you out here, I mean. Also, you don’t really strike me as a dog person.”

“I have a cat. Milli.” He steadies BB-8 when the dog begins to wiggle happily. Ren seems pleased. Hux isn’t sure it’s because he guessed that detail correctly, or because BB-8’s eyes are closed and her tongue is lolling out. “What about you?”

“I don’t have any pets.”

“Ah,” Hux shakes his head, averts his gaze. He studies a loose thread on BB-8’s orange and white collar. “So what are you doing out here? Not hanging around to chat sports, I assume.”

Ren barks a laugh. BB-8 barks back. “No, definitely not. But the bleachers are a great place for people watching, and people watching is great for drawing.” He lifts his chin toward the field, where Finn and Phasma are barely resisting the urge to stare. “Also, Poe is our ride.”

“Mystery solved,” Hux says.

“Yeah. Hey, come here.” He slides off the edge of the bench to sit in the grass, parallel to the bleachers, his legs outstretched. Hux blinks and BB-8 tilts her head. Ren looks at them both expectantly. “Easier than pretending BB-8 is a lapdog, yeah?”

BB-8 hops down at the mention of her name, so Hux follows. He stretches his legs out slowly, wary of grass stains, until the soles of their shoes touch. Ren’s pleased expression persists. BB-8 rolls around between them, respecting the laughable barrier they’ve created, more interested in belly rubs than escape. Ren resumes scratching, and Hux is sure everyone present must be watching them right now. His heartbeat thunders in his ears.

“I’ve seen your drawings,” he blurts out. Ren looks up at him again, shoulders hunched, body folded forward over BB-8. “In the school gallery,” Hux quickly clarifies. “They’re incredible. Your shadowing technique, and the weight of your lines--”

“Are you an artist?” Ren asks. Hux swears his eyes light up.

“Me? No. Everything I know about art is theoretical, out of a textbook. But I appreciate it, you know? Who doesn’t want to be surrounded by beauty?”

Hux feels his ears burning before the words have left his mouth, but Ren spares him the embarrassment of calling him out on such a cheesy sentiment. In fact, his own cheeks seem to pink slightly as he processes the question. “Well,” he says, clears his throat, “thank you. I don’t get feedback very often.”

It takes him a moment, but Hux smiles. “I would love to see more. If you wanted to share, of course.”

“Of course,” Ren replies, matching his smile.

 

By the time practice is over Hux has Ren’s number in his phone and a promise that he’ll start joining the rest of them for lunch rather than ducking into empty classrooms to draw. “It’s 30 whole minutes,” Hux had insisted, “and you’ll feel better, more focused -- I swear.”

 

Ren keeps his word and Hux is on cloud nine for the rest of the week. Still, their lively lunchtime chats haven’t resulted in an organic invitation, and when Friday rolls around Phasma finally gives Hux _that look_ as they split off outside the cafeteria door. Hux nods, takes a deep breath, and grabs Ren by the elbow as he comes through the door. He leads him back a few steps into a corner, and the rest of the school continues by, oblivious.

“Hey, do you wanna hang out tonight?” he asks, words tumbling out a little too quickly.

“Yeah,” Ren says, also a little too quickly. “Yeah, definitely.”

Hux has to keep talking to prevent himself from smiling like a fool. “My dad’s out of town for work, so you can come meet Milli, if you want. She’s no BB-8 but she doesn’t turn down chin scratches either.”

“How can I say no to that?”

“Great.” Hux feels the corner of his lip twitch, lets it curl into a grin. “I’ll text you after class. We can walk together.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He pushes off the wall, dipping his head. “See you then.” He heads off to study hall, where he spends the entire period sneakily texting celebratory emoji to Phasma under his desk.

 

He meets Ren at his locker. The boy is struggling to fit an oversized sketchbook into an already overstuffed backpack, so he offers space in his own for two smaller books and an empty thermos that reeks of black coffee. Ren refuses to let him take his dirty gym clothes. Hux doesn’t argue.

They spend the walk learning more about each other, about things that would never come up in the crowded cafeteria. Hux describes his long friendship with Phasma, and their Academy plans, and what it’s like living with a strict military father. He learns that Ren’s parents are still together, but they travel and work so much that he’s often on his own for days at a time, and although his voice doesn’t waver Hux sees the sadness on his face when he talks about them. He suddenly remembers Phasma’s story about Finn and Poe avoiding him during BB-8’s morning walk, and resolves to ask them if maybe Ren can help out some mornings instead.

“It’s going to rain,” Ren says softly, breaking a short silence. He frowns up at the gathering clouds.

“We’re still a couple blocks away,” Hux says. He wants to conjure up visions of kissing Ren in the rain but the logical part of his brain fights him, knows that getting caught in the downpour will mean nothing but ruined books and sketches and a quick end to the evening. He grabs the straps of his bag and tugs until it’s secure against his back. Ren has the same idea and is pulling his hood up over his hair. “Ready?” Hux asks.

Ren nods. They grin at each other and then take off at a run.

Hux is out of breath when they reach the front porch. He fishes his keys out of his bag as Ren pushes his hood back and shakes out his hair. A few fat drops of rain finally hit the sidewalk. Hux unlocks the door and pushes through into the foyer.

Ren follows his lead once inside, kicking off his shoes at the edge of the tiled entryway. Hux pulls his sweater over his head and hangs it on a nearby hook, then casually unbuttons the collar of his shirt. Ren leaves his hoodie on. They drop their bags on the long, plush living room sofa on their way to the kitchen.

“Your house is… really nice,” Ren says, looking around wide-eyed.

Hux shrugs. “It’s a bit much, for me.” He frowns when he realizes how this sounds, needs to change the subject. “Tea?” he asks, already carrying the kettle to the sink.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Hux spoons loose tea leaves into the pot while watching Ren from the corner of his eye. He’s making his way around the kitchen, examining both appliances and framed photos alike. Hux decides he very much wants to see Ren’s home someday.

Ren takes his tea straight. Hux stirs some honey into his own and they return to the sofa with their mugs. Millicent is there waiting for them, sort of. Her back legs and tail are sticking out from the top of Ren’s backpack.

“Milli,” Hux hisses, and she jumps back, head emerging with a loud squawk. “I’m sorry,” he says, placing his tea on an end table and scooping the large orange tabby up in his arms. “You can’t be so nosy,” he scolds her, gently. She chirps back at him.

“It’s fine.” Ren moves his bag to the floor and sits, mug held between both hands.

Hux sits beside him. His heart leaps in his chest when Ren scoots so close their thighs touch. He reaches out tentatively to stroke the soft fur at Millicent’s neck. Hux watches his fingers. When they disappear into her fur to scratch along her back she starts purring in earnest, and Hux smiles. “You just made a new best friend, congratulations.”

“I’m on a roll, then,” Ren says.

Hux picks up his tea once Millicent is settled in his lap. They sip in silence for a few minutes, watching the rain through the bay window on the opposite side of the room. Lightning flashes once, twice. The rumble of thunder occasionally interrupts the cat’s loud purrs. Hux glances at Ren, whose eyes are downcast, studying the bottom of his mug. He takes a gulp of his tea, now that it’s begun to cool, and sets the mug down again. “Will you show me what you’re working on?” he asks.

Ren nods, but spends another long minute petting Millicent before reaching into his bag and producing the sketchbook. “Chiaroscuro,” he says, handing it over to Hux.

“Huh?”

“That’s what I’m working on,” he says, raising his mug to his lips. Hux flips the book open. “Your comment about shading gave me the idea,” he continues as Hux leafs through page after page of stark drawings, heavy black strokes against bleach-white paper. He recognizes many of the subjects - Mitaka, standing alone; Finn and Phasma in their football gear; Mr. Skywalker, the grumpy history teacher Hux is pretty sure is a relative of Ren’s, somehow or other. There are self portraits as well. Hux immediately notices the way Ren exaggerates his own darkness. There’s an emphasis on the circles under his eyes and the shadow of his nose and brow. The next page is full of BB-8 sketches and they both laugh at the sight of it. “Those were for something else,” Ren explains.

It’s not until he speaks that Hux realizes they’re leaning in toward each other, legs flush, shoulders close. Millicent has migrated to the open cushion on the other side of Kylo, presumably because they’ve both stopped petting her. The rain is coming down hard now and Hux is grateful, because otherwise he’s sure Ren would hear the nervous stutter of his heartbeat.

They’re both still staring at the page of corgi-shaped scribbles when Ren reaches across him to turn the page. “I think… well, I’m most proud of this one,” he says.

Hux’s own face stares up at him from the paper. His throat feels tight. It’s him, but it’s Ren’s image of him, so it’s beautiful. His eyes are bright, lashes delicate. The tip of his nose is carefully rounded. His cheekbones are high and sharp. He drew his hair messy, windswept -- the way he’s worn it since Phasma convinced him to cut back on the product. Ren has overstated his freckles just a bit, a heavy dusting across the bridge of his nose and cheeks and even his shoulders, where an inky black envelopes him. This, he notices, is his only real contrast - he’s drawn Hux as light against absolute darkness.

He remembers to breathe.

“Ren--”

“You can have it when I’m done, if you want.”

“I-- has anyone else seen? Their own drawings, I mean.”

Ren laughs, shaking his head. His gaze drops to his lap again. “No. I can’t share these with anyone else.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” he says quietly, shrugging, “because everyone else think it’s weird. Thinks I’m weird. I’d just make them more uncomfortable.”

“No way.” Hux shakes his head. “Impossible. Ren, these are really, really good. Anyone would feel flattered. Honored, even.”

“I think that’s just you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. And that’s okay, you know? I’m glad it’s you.”

Hux’s brows knit together. He’s overwhelmed, doesn’t know how to react. Spending this much time with Ren is surreal enough -- a week ago he wouldn’t have imagined them holding a conversation, let alone in his own living room -- but hearing these words actually come from his mouth…

“Am I dreaming?” he mutters, not entirely on purpose, and he’s not sure which of them looks more surprised. “Sorry,” he nearly shouts. “This is just -- a lot.” He’s grateful once again for the roar of the storm in the background as he opens and closes his mouth, trying to form words. Ren is watching him intently. “Ren, listen.”

Kylo lowers his head. Their bodies separate when he slumps against the back of the sofa. “Shit. I just assumed--”

“Yes!” Hux interrupts, and this time he does shout. Ren’s mouth snaps shut. Hux sighs and turns toward him, pulling his legs up and folding them under himself. He swallows. Ren is looking at him quizzically, head tilted to one side. Wavy hair obscures half of his face. Hux swallows again, hard, and reaches out with one trembling hand to tuck it behind his ear. Ren flinches, eyes narrowing. “Listen,” he starts again, but waits. Ren slowly lifts his face, and when he presses almost imperceptibly into Hux’s palm Hux spreads his fingers to cup his cheek.

Ren lets out a shaky breath. “I’m listening,” he whispers.

Hux raises his other hand so that he’s holding Ren’s face. His thumbs trace the heated skin beneath his searching eyes, and he wants to tell him everything but it feels like it’ll take forever and all he can focus on are the parted lips before him.

He closes his eyes and kisses Ren, slowly. He’s soft and pliant, breathing loudly through his nose. Hux can’t resist grazing his soft bottom lip with his teeth, can’t stop himself from pressing in until their tongues slide together, hot and wet and far better than he imagined. A large hand grips his shoulder and Hux pulls back, eyes fluttering open, unfocused.

“Oh,” Ren says.

“Yeah.” Hux licks his own lips. They taste of tea and cloves. He smiles and finally drops his hands, one to his lap and the other to wrap gently around Ren’s forearm. “You didn’t tell me you have cigarettes on you.”

 

The awning over the back patio shields them from the downpour while they smoke. They sit close, legs and shoulders pressed flush again, passing the cigarette between them.

“I thought I freaked you out, with the drawing.” Ren exhales a narrow ribbon of smoke and they watch it rise and dissipate.

Hux shakes his head. He raises the cigarette to his lips, takes a quick drag. “I should’ve said something sooner,” he says, maybe more for his own benefit. He looks at Ren, ashing the cigarette onto the steps before handing it over. “Do you remember the fall festival a few years back? When we both got stuck with concession duty?”

“Are you kidding? I was a freshman, and you were so mean. I thought you hated me.” Hux groans and Ren nudges him with an elbow. “Just for a while,” he clarifies. “I remember I talked to Finn right after. He told me a little about you, how you get nervous. I guess I just didn’t really know why until -- well, until just now.” Hux is shaking his head when Ren looks over at him. “What?”

“Finn. I bloody knew it.” He laughs. “Phasma swore he was clueless, but that jerk knew, he knew this entire time. She probably didn’t even _know_ he knew.”

“Wait, so you--”

“Yeah. Look, Ren, I can stand on a stage and debate and make speeches all day long, but. I don’t know. I was so caught off guard that day, when I met you. I wanted to know you, was completely fascinated by you, and… I guess I was afraid we wouldn’t have anything in common, or something equally dumb. So I blew it. And I’ve been afraid to approach you ever since, because I’m an idiot. And now--”

Ren snorts, takes another drag. “Now you’re a senior and you’ll be gone in a couple of months. Thanks.”

“I know. I fucked up.” Hux runs a hand through his hair. The mist has softened it, and the lock over his forehead is trying to curl. “But hey, I’m not going anywhere until the fall, and in the meantime -- well, I don’t know if it’s even something you’d have any interest in, but what the hell.” Hux snatches Ren’s hand from the air. He plucks the cigarette from his fingers, stubbing it out in the dirt beside him, then lifts his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Go to the prom with me?”

Ren’s brows shoot up. “Um. Yes, obviously.” He laces his fingers with Hux’s own and a wicked grin spreads across his face. “And not just because the idea of you at a school dance is even more shocking than the idea of me at a school dance.”

“Good.“ Hux rests his head on Ren’s shoulder and squeezes his hand. “To surprises, then.”


End file.
